Painting a picture
COMMENTARY
Plainclothes police are staking out the hideout, snipers lock on to their targets from the tops of surrounding buildings and a truckload of Swat team members are hiding nearby _ it's the quiet before the storm. Suspects all accounted for in the hideout, check. Certain evidence confirmed in the hideout, check. Communication lines secured, neighbourhood cleared, weapons locked and loaded, full metal jackets in place, check, check and check.
''Take them out! Go! Go! Go!'' The element of surprise is half the battle.
Ah, the goose-bumps I get when watching a police raid in a Hollywood movie. But when I learned I was to witness my first real-life Thai police raid on the morning of Feb 28, I wasn't that excited.
At 10.30am, the question came: ''What are you doing at the office, aren't you supposed to be at the raid?'' Answer: ''Bah, there's no hurry.'' At 11.30am another question: ''Shouldn't you have left already?'' Answer: ''Nah, I'll leave in an hour.''
At the scene, 1pm. Inside the compound of the Cabbages & Condoms restaurant, a man with a shaved head standing under the scorching sun, sweat oozing from his every pore. A pair of Ray-Bans covered his sad, mysterious eyes. His hands rested on his hips in a devil-may-care manner befitting a lone cowboy eyeing a group of pilgrims, who were even sweatier since they had been there for hours. The cowboy, who could have used a hat, sighed and with an exasperating twang said: ''Nothing happening yet, pilgrims?''
''No,'' one pilgrim replied.
A big crowd of reporters and cameramen have been waiting at the compound since early morning. The police are expected to raid the medical clinic on the second floor of the restaurant. The clinic _ which is not part of the restaurant _ is suspected of providing illegal abortions. A couple of police cars and a few policemen were waiting around. Some 45 minutes later, the commander and other bigwigs arrive. The raid is happening. They are ready to go. The bigwigs then march upstairs, followed by their police entourage as reporters and cameramen crowd after them. The members of the media were prevented from going up by the police. Foreign patrons of the restaurant looked on, bewildered.
More waiting. Some 30 minutes later the bigwigs come down. Camera lights flashing, microphones jabbing, questions spewing _ ''What did you find?'' ''What did you see?''
''We found nothing,'' says the commanding officer, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead.
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